When you make it a habit to write about your life, you eventually question: will I run out of stories? Like most of us, I could (and have) fill journal after journal with my exploits. Sometimes they are actually interesting nuggets of wisdom that someone else can use; more often than not they are run-on sentences with no clear beginning, middle, or end.
That’s life though. If you would have asked me two years ago if there is where I’d be: halfway through graduate school, married, living in a house…I would have looked at you the way I look at a Pepsi can when it is the only option. A begrudging bewilderment. I’ll accept it only if I have to.
So I aim to write stories as they happen, as I remember them, or as they become culturally relevant. Yes, I could save them up, wishing for a better offer–planning for a big break. But honestly, it may never come, but these stories always will.